


So a wolf, a spider, and a falcon get a house together [cue laughter]

by GalekhXigisi



Series: Menstrual fics [11]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bonding, Captain America Sam Wilson, Domestic Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Gender Dysphoria, Hydra (Marvel), Hydra Peter Parker, M/M, Menstruation, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is Bucky Barnes's Biological Child, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Teen Peter Parker, Trans Bucky Barnes, Trans Peter Parker, but also fluff, not entirely canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:41:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalekhXigisi/pseuds/GalekhXigisi
Summary: Peter should have realized what was coming, Sam and Bucky are worried, and there's also cuddles. Domestic little fluff that gets soft in the second half. The first half is angst, though.aka, that one story that I thought up over the course of three days because I rewatched all of the Captain America stuff, rekindled my love for Sam, Bucky, and SamBucky, then had to add my lovely boy in.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, Peter Parker & Sam Wilson
Series: Menstrual fics [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559251
Comments: 3
Kudos: 143





	So a wolf, a spider, and a falcon get a house together [cue laughter]

**Author's Note:**

> To clarify beforehand, Peter and Bucky are both post Hydra, no longer a part of it, as is canon. Peter's very aware of who everyone is and, while he isn't close to Tony, he did still have a sort of have an admiration of sorts for him, given that he's smart and Peter, as a prodigy, can't help it.  
> Peter has essentially been attached to Bucky's hip since he was born and, given that he's literally his kid and how Hydra is, I'd like to think of them as essentially one deadly unit when it comes down to it. Peter is roughly maybe 15 or 16, too, because I couldn't calculate stuff right and yeah I put his birthday in 2004. Take Bucky's pregnancy however you'd like.  
> The spider DNA didn't come until later, either, maybe when he was a kid, anywhere from 4 to 7, wherever you'd like, I can't remember if I said it officially or not. I had a big storyline for that but I didn't write it.

Peter’s stomach aches. That’s the only tell he gets and, realistically, he should have caught it earlier, earlier as in two days ago when it began, deep in his gut, and not five seconds ago, when he had to suddenly run to the bathroom because he felt, well,  _ wet _ down there. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, the boy locked in the bathroom with his throat feeling tight and his heart pounding in his own ears. It sucks, quite frankly, because he can hear every single noise about a hundred times louder than they should have been. 

There are a lot of ways he could go about this. Text one of his dads would probably be the quickest, but there’s the offhand chance that it simply  _ won’t be. _ He  _ could _ yell out the bathroom door, too, but that was never a safe route when he lived with people who could easily be triggered by any sort of loud noises or noises similar to children whining. So,  _ yeah, _ the second option is out just as easily as a million different others. 

He stands from his spot on the toilet and opens the cabinet above the toilet, desperately searching for tampons. There’s an abundance of white towels  _ (which is dumb, they’re all Avengers). _ Facial soap, razor head replacements, pads of varying sizes, and a bunch of other things, but there’s a lack of even a singular tampon and,  _ Hell, _ Peter will even deal with a jumbo tampon if it were an option for a shower, but it isn’t there and Peter suddenly feels  _ very _ fucking nauseated. He almost throws up right then and there. 

He decides, after a moment of tears burning at his eyes that he forces down, that he’ll just text his dads. They’re both in the living room, both there and watching one of the movies Sam pirated, so it isn’t as if they’re that far. Peter had been there just a moment ago, a moment before things turned sour and his mind flipped. After years upon years of having this super serum  _ whatever _ that apparently  _ Steven Grant Rogers _ took, he had learned that menstrual cycles were never going to become regulated. After the spider bite that caused two sets of extra limbs, little web makers on his wrists, and a lot of varying changes, well, of  _ course, _ that made everything a million times worse. After all, he was partly a spider now, of course, no menstrual cycle meant a singular,  _ easy _ egg. No, it meant multiple, all the equivalent of multiple periods at once. 

He digs for his phone, but the fact that he doesn’t even have it is what finally makes the tears fall. He’s vaguely aware that it’s in his room, charging on the grey cable plugged into the outlet beside his bed. The device was probably getting cradled by his pillow right now, where Peter silently wishes he could be, carefree and comfortable. But, no, of  _ course, _ the spider has the shittiest luck out there. Instead, he’s standing in the bathroom with blood trailing down his thighs, and very little hope for both his mental and physical state. He needs a shower, needs to get cleaned up, needs to do this as quickly and as efficiently as can be. For fuck’s sake, he’s an ex-member of Hydra, one of their many trained assassins, this shouldn’t be a tattering as it is. He’s fucking  _ killed people, _ for fuck’s sake! (Even if all fo that was entirely against the boy’s will.)

Knuckles wrap against the bathroom door, making the boy flinch, a metal limb now steadying him, planted but ready. His left leg, he’s vaguely aware, is his current grounding, the cold metal pressing the to the meat of his right thigh before being pulled away. 

“You alright in there,” comes Sam’s voice, wary, worried, “You kind’a rushed off there a second ago, kid.” 

And Peter practically dissolves into a puddle at hearing his father’s voice. A sob almost escapes him,  _ almost. _ Instead, he asks, “I… I actually need a tampon, if there are any?” The chances of that were low,  _ very _ low, but Peter’s only stocked up on white towels right now and he doesn’t even have any possible underwear to put a pad on and slide into the instant he steps out of the shower, so, he’s going to do what he can. Sure, Peter could deal with getting stabbed and shot a million different times, but this, right here, was something that easily threw off his entire world. It always had, always would. 

There’s a hum from the other side of the door, then the man’s voice filtering to say, “I’ll see what I can do. Hold on.” 

Peter only gives a hum back. Listening to the sound of his footsteps fade out, the floors of their cheap apartment squeaking. If Tony were still around, he would probably have a cow at seeing their new digs, but it was nice and homey, so Peter could never complain. He never would, anyway. 

He counts out his breathing until he hears yet another knock on the door. He still flinches at it, despite his spider senses tingling before it happens. His father’s voice calls, “Pete, I got a tampon.” Peter timidly opens the door just enough for the little thing to get slid through the door. He doesn’t need to acknowledge Bucky’s worried puppy-dog look right now. It would certainly make him sob, so he shuts the door back. “Sam’s going out to get some more. Do you need a towel or anything?” 

“Why do we only have white towels,” Peter asks back in a whimpering groan. “All three of us get injured too much for white towels. They get stained too much! We don’t have enough bleach for this!” 

Bucky laughs softly at that, a clear smile on his lips that helps the spiderling relax. “They’re the cheapest,” he hears, followed by, “I’ll get some other towels, okay?” 

“Yeah,” the younger replies easily, sniffling. His head hurts and, quite frankly, all of this is overwhelming as hell. “Yeah, please.” 

  
  
  


In the midsts of knowing each other for so long, falling into a domestic little night was not something abnormal between the three, even if it were currently 2023, three of their close friends were dead, and a lot had hanged in the five years they had been gone. Thankfully, though, they all left  _ together, _ not pieces, not two-thirds or one-third of the ragtag crew. No, it was all three being victims of Thanos, two ex Hydra and one veteran, all disappearing in the dust together. That, Bucky thinks, may have been the best possible outcome they could have gotten, given the circumstances. 

There was a lot that was broken about the three. Sam, who still had moments where certain noises made his mind lose its shit and PTSD spike high. Bucky, who still had trouble with memory and accepting that his existence was his own, as well as the switch between centuries. And Peter, who has problems with disassociation and things actually being genuinely real thanks to trusting Mysterio back when he was finally banding off from Hydra with his father all those years ago. They had their triggers, had their issues, but they were progressively learning what did and didn’t help, what irritating issues, and what helped heal. A lot of therapy went into their lives and a lot would continue to, but they were doing well. 

All of that is evident now, as is. Peter lays strewn over Bucky and Sam, his head on his father’s lap and legs, for the most part, laid there. It’ a bit awkward, given that they’re on the loveseat and that Peter is pretty damn tall after his growth spurt just after coming back from the dead thanks to  _ finally _ getting approval for testosterone. Peter thinks it’s funny, really, that it took seven years for approval, especially counting the fact that the blip even happened, though Peter had taken to calling it the Dusting, much to everyone’s comedic dismay. It was easier that way, and funnier when he heard someone say, _ It was the Dustbowl, fifty percent off everything. _ Yeah, he thought that was funny, even if he could remember the feeling of it. 

He remembers every feeling that came with turning to dust. His senses had been so overwhelmed, all screaming in his brain. No one else felt it, all dying peacefully, but Peter hadn’t. No, he hadn’t, because those extra spidery senses that gave him a warning to danger alerted him of his cells tearing themselves apart by the molecule from each atom to atom and rotting away within seconds. It was  _ disgusting. _ His lungs were first to go, unlike what most thought. His breath had left him swiftly, a cough of dust and blood there, right in from of Sam as the two attempted to fight their way through survival.  _ (Sam could still remember the terrified look, a bloody, dirty hand pulled from Peter’s mouth. However, there was acceptance, too, that never made it feel any better.) _

He thinks anything near his stomach area when next, pain so sharp that it was cold there. It was all overwhelming and it felt like he was digesting glass, which he’d done before and knew was not the best feeling. Then, his entire body went, translucent and gone within a total of thirty seconds. He was one of the last few to go and the last few to reform. 

When Peter first came to, the very first thing he did was fall to the ground, struggling to breathe. Just like things turned to dust first, they formed back in the opposite order. His lungs were last and the harsh struggle turned from a lack of proper lungs to a panic attack that Sam had to lull him out of. And that had been so many months ago, but not enough for Peter to be anywhere near forgetting. Five months, just long enough for testosterone to start changing him for the better, but not enough to stop the angry red that invaded for kicks. 

Bucky presses play on the movie Peter and Sam had pirated just two hours ago, downloaded onto a computer with a VPN and a hundred different things encoded on it that Shuri had been happy to program it with, happy smiling as she proudly announced,  _ Fuck Disney, _ before passing it over. And Peter could never agree more, especially not as the beginning of  _ Empire Strikes Back _ rolls on the television, projected from the computer connected to the HDMI cord. Sure, they could have something fancy, but Peter liked the trained little scene and he’s sure the other two appreciate something  _ “normal” _ in their lives. 

Hell,  _ none _ of them are normal. For fuck’s sake, Sam has metal wings sprouting from his shoulder blades, Bucky has a shit ton of training on his side  _ plus _ a different century in his back  _ and _ the same serum Steve Rogers had implanted in him so long ago, while Peter had the serum, the training, and an entire second set of DNA from so many tests that had their own set of effects and changes. They’re their own little messy family with oddities about them, anything that can lace  _ normalcy _ into their lives is a thankful little blessing in disguise. 

“Can we get a dog,” Peter asks softly, peering up at Bucky. His attention had drifted from the screen around ten minutes in when he started thinking about the blip, but it’s drifted far enough that he’s thinking about things considered normal. Dogs as pets were considered normal, like cats and birds and whatever other little creatures came with it, right? “Like, one of those big ones that you see on TV a lot? Saint Bernards or something?” 

Bucky hums, smiling softly. “That’s a big pet to ask for as a starter.” 

“We could adopt one of those older ones so we can at least give them a happy little ending?” he suggests. 

Sam huffs, but it isn’t an accusatory little sound, something soft and maybe even heartfelt. “Who gave the arachnid a heart?” 

Peter pokes is tide with his metal toes, smiling as the other man yelps and practically launches from his spot, slapping the metal away. Peter feels it the same way he would with his fleshed limb, the same thing Bucky could do. Sure, Peter’s limbs could grow back thanks to the spider DNA, but this injury came when he was far too young and the boy had barely come out alive, surviving by a stroke of luck and instincts. But he could feel everything. Hydra, in all its harsh glory, made sure of that. 

The three fall into discussion easily, as if it were simply second nature for them to entertain Peter’s idea of a dog.  _ (And it is, not that they’d admit it.) _ Peter scrolls through his phone as they chat on, showing off more and more pets for to the other two to see and judge. If they end up getting seven dogs that piss off their landlord to the point that they move, well, that’s no one’s business but their own. And if they get a couple of cats along the way,  _ well, _ Sam supposes that neither can say no to Peter’s puppy eyes and Sam  _ especially _ could never say no to Bucky’s which, quite frankly, will probably be his downfall given that he has a shit ton of pets now. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I did NOT work hard on this, but I've rewritten the idea enough times for this crack-ass idea to be engraved into my brain and I will be fucking damned to all hell if I don't post this shit. 
> 
> Here's my Discord server!  
> https://discord.gg/eGkwayy


End file.
